


Spy Moves

by Plus1STR



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Cartinelli - Freeform, F/F, Femslash, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plus1STR/pseuds/Plus1STR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie always asks Peggy to show her some "spy moves".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spy Moves

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [Golpes de Espiã](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625259) by [Rosetta (Melime)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/pseuds/Rosetta)



"C’mon, English. There’s gotta be something you can show me."

It hadn’t been the first time Angie had asked Peggy to teach her “some spy moves” and Peggy knew it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Normally, she’d deflect the question or change the topic entirely, but there was something about the way the actress was stuffing bread rolls into her purse, all the while giving her those signature puppy dog eyes.  
Peggy furrows her brows, trying to sort out what she could possibly tell Angie, before letting out a soft sigh.

"Ang, look, to be perfectly honest, fifty percent of the time, I just pick up the nearest blunt object and I hit someone with it." Angie tilts her head off to the side, sporting a cocked eyebrow and pursed lips. It was a look that Peggy knew meant she’d be getting an earful later.

"Is that all there is to it?" she asks, stuffing one more roll into her bag before standing up. Angie wasn’t really satisfied with the answer, but it was more than what Peggy would normally tell her, so for now, it would have to do.

"It’s not nearly as glamourous as you’d imagine," Peggy says, standing as well, picking up her own bag in the process.

"Save me my booth?"

"O’course, Peg."

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

The diner was a bit busier than usual, but, as promised, Peggy’s booth was open. The two exchanges a smile and Peggy seats herself, watching Angie bustle back and forth between tables with dishes in hand. Grabbing lunch at the diner during her breaks had become routine and Peggy’s favourite part of the day; sipping on coffee and chatting with Angie about anything and everything under the sun.

"Sorry, busy day. The usual?"

"Please."

And off Angie goes from tables to the counter to the kitchen window and back again.

Angie was typically who Peggy would watch on busier days. Watching her juggle customers and pig-headed customers all with a smile on her face somehow gave her the stomach to go back to work and deal with other agents at the SSR. Acting was certainly her forte. But Peggy’s eyes track a rather disgruntled customer, who keeps bouncing his legs and fiddling with his jacket pockets. He’s clearly anxious about something, his eyes darting between the closer tables, the counter, and the door.

Angie stops by Peggy’s table, quickly dropping off her order before collecting empty plates and retreating behind the counter. The man Peggy had been watching quickly finishes his drink, stands, and steps to the counter. He wasn’t fidgeting anymore, but his face sports a look that’s a cross between ill and nervous. He speaks with Angie lowly and her normally sweet expression changes from that to worry. Knowing what was about to happen, Peggy slowly begins to stand from her seat, but the patron turns, his hands now free from his pockets, revealing a small pistol.

"Alright, I don’t want any trouble. Everyone just sit down and keep quiet," he says, making a show of his firearm, as everyone complies.

As he turns back to the counter, before Peggy even makes her move, Angie bashes an empty pan across his face, watching his body drop almost in disbelief. "Huh…" Angie leans over the counter, taking a look at the sorry sap, before looking at the pan in her hand. "Well, would ya look at that."

"How’s that, English?" she asks Peggy, who now had a knee in the patron’s back, keeping him immobile on the diner floor.

Peggy laughs, thinking back to the conversation they’d had earlier at The Griffith. "Well done, darling," she shakes her head, still smiling, and looks up at her frying-pan armed girlfriend.

"But, please, never do it again."


End file.
